Chapter 164: The Crying Game
Aaron wasn't particularly concerned about what was happening inside Disney, but the potential shake-up at Time Warner was a different matter altogether.
The consecutive sell-offs of Columbia TriStar and MCA Universal had already reshaped Hollywood's landscape. If yet another major media conglomerate were to change hands, the industry would face a new round of upheaval.
Back in Los Angeles, Burbank—fresh from his Caribbean vacation—Aaron attended the U.S. premiere of The Crying Game. The film, which had just screened at the Toronto International Film Festival, was already earning widespread praise from critics.
Inside the theater lounge, Aaron sat with Don Steel, the two quietly discussing the recent rumors surrounding Time Warner.
"If I remember correctly," Aaron said, "aside from the seriously ill Steve Ross, the person with the most influence at Time Warner right now is Gerald Levin."
Since last Christmas, Gerald Levin had been a frequent presence at Ross's East Hampton estate on Long Island, where Ross was undergoing treatment. With the support of Ross's family—and after gaining Ross's personal trust—Levin had taken advantage of the spring board meeting to edge out his longtime rival, N.J. Nicholas.
"Yes," Don Steel agreed with a shrug. "Steve Ross has basically chosen Levin as his successor. His prostate cancer is already in the late stages—he doesn't have much time left."
Aaron leaned back in his chair, tapping his knee thoughtfully.
"That makes the Seagram Group's move even more interesting," he said. "Seagram Gin, Martell, Chivas—those brands alone are already massive. And yet they want to push into Hollywood?"
Beyond its liquor empire, Seagram was also a major shareholder in DuPont. In comparison, alcohol was hardly their most valuable business—especially when weighed against a military-industrial giant like DuPont.
"I've heard it's Edgar Bronfman Jr.," Don explained. "The forty-year-old CEO and president of Seagram. He's the one eager to break into entertainment."
Edgar Bronfman Jr.—the third generation of the powerful Bronfman family.
"He's operating through CAA," Don continued. "Michael Ovitz recommended Time Warner to them: film, television, publishing, magazines, cable networks, even video games. Aside from lacking a theme park division, Time Warner is one of the most diversified media empires out there."
Hearing Don Steel say that, Aaron felt there was nothing unreasonable about it.
As long as Seagram sold off its shares in DuPont, it would immediately generate an enormous cash flow. After all, DuPont was absurdly profitable—something Hollywood simply couldn't ignore.
Aaron stood up and smiled faintly.
"Hollywood isn't an easy place to survive. For these old-money families to gain a real foothold here, money alone is far from enough."
Just look at Sony. Look at Matsushita. Japanese corporations had arrived waving massive piles of cash, yet even they struggled to adapt.
Because The Crying Game was being released by Crescent Pictures as an arthouse film, its scale was deliberately limited. The film would have to rely on word of mouth to succeed. Given its shocking twist and highly controversial themes, the marketing strategy leaned heavily on mystery and restraint.
As the lights dimmed and The Crying Game began, Aaron settled into his seat and watched attentively. This independent film was no weaker than Boyz n the Hood.
Stephen Rea's Fergus is a member of the Irish Republican Army. One day, the group kidnaps Jody, a Black British soldier played by Forest Whitaker, and assigns Fergus to guard him. Over time, the two men grow close, forming an unlikely friendship.
Jody asks Fergus that if he is killed, Fergus should visit his girlfriend Dil in London, portrayed by Jaye Davidson.
Later, the IRA orders Fergus to execute Jody. Deep in the woods, Fergus secretly releases him—but tragedy strikes when Jody is accidentally crushed by a British Army tank during an assault on the IRA camp.
Fergus flees the organization, changes his identity, and travels to London to find Dil.
He eventually locates her in a nightclub—a beautiful Black woman. Fergus falls in love and begins courting her. Just as their relationship deepens, Fergus discovers a shocking truth: Dil is biologically male, with a delicate appearance and a preference for women's clothing.
After this painful revelation, the dynamics between them shift. Dil becomes fiercely devoted to Fergus, willing to do anything for him, while Fergus is gradually moved by Dil's sincerity and love.
Soon, Fergus's former lover in the IRA, Jude, reappears. Furious at his betrayal, she informs him that the organization has sentenced him to death. She orders Fergus to assassinate a judge in a suicide mission.
Knowing he cannot escape his fate, Fergus tries to protect Dil from being implicated. He convinces Dil to dress as a man and hide in a hotel. Unable to bear his sacrifice, Dil secretly ties Fergus to the bed while he sleeps, delaying the assassination.
Jude and her accomplices wait in vain. When Fergus fails to appear, one of them attempts the mission alone and is killed. Jude drives to Dil's apartment, storms in with a gun—but Dil shoots her first.
Fergus tells Dil to flee. He remains behind, calmly waiting for the police. After wiping the fingerprints from the gun, he pulls the trigger himself.
The Crying Game sparked intense debate and polarized responses, earning both praise and criticism.
A reviewer from the San Francisco Chronicle, Mick LaSalle, wrote:
"Neil Jordan's compelling new film is both a political thriller and a love story, weaving sexual and political undercurrents into a dreamlike narrative."
Wesley Lovell of The Hollywood Reporter commented:
"Self-discovery amid chaos becomes the perfect metaphor in The Crying Game, a film that explores race, identity, sexuality, and perception during Ireland's turbulent era."
Kenneth Turan of the Los Angeles Times wrote:
"Suspenseful and emotionally complex, the film deftly merges political conflict with inner turmoil. The Crying Game is something unexpected—a daring new way to tell a very old story."
Richard Corliss of Time observed:
"Jordan examines life and death, sex and friendship, responsibility and loyalty, freedom and constraint, masculinity and femininity—and all the sharp ambiguities in between—with electrifying naturalism."
Perhaps, Aaron thought, he had finally found the right director for Interview with the Vampire.